Sequins and Snowflakes
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: TDBM2k17 Secret Santa prompt: Jean and Lucien attend a fancy party, her first foray in public as the doctor's wife.


**Sequins and Snowflakes**

When they returned from the honeymoon trip, after Matthew had unfortunately interrupted the passionate embrace of the newlyweds and whisked Lucien off to a crime scene, Jean immediately changed out of her travel suit and into more appropriate clothing and went to work inspecting how her house had fared in her absence.

She smiled to herself. _Her_ house. The Blake house had been her home for a very long time, but it wasn't until after she and Lucien had gotten engaged that she started really considering the house her own. She was lady of the house, now, and she'd be sure to keep it exactly as she wanted it. And for starters, she needed to head to the shops; Matthew must have been going out to eat for every meal because there wasn't a stitch of food in the kitchen.

People greeted her on the street. Most addressed her by her name. The shopkeepers called her Mrs. Blake, and she couldn't help but beam with pride and glance down at her wedding band. Being on honeymoon was magical and romantic and wonderful, but now she was back home and starting her life as Lucien's wife, and it was still very new and exciting.

"Oh Jean, hello!"

She turned on her way out of the butcher shop to see Susan Tyneman greet her. "Hello, Susan, it's lovely to see you!"

The two ladies embraced each other warmly. "When did you get back from your trip?"

"Just today, actually. Lucien got called away on a case almost as soon as we walked in the door, so I though I'd better get some food in while he's busy," Jean explained.

"Ah, so you haven't seen the invitation yet, I take it?"

Jean frowned curiously. "Invitation? No, I haven't looked at the mail yet."

Susan smiled proudly. "I've been organizing a gala ball."

"Oh goodness!"

"Christmas in July. Patrick always loved the winter weather. You remember how he hated the heat, I'm sure. And Edward always loved Christmas. Even when he was living a more unsavory life, he always came home for Christmas. So I thought that in honor of them both, I should start a new Ballarat tradition they would have loved. I know we don't get snow, even in July, but the rest of the civilized world gets a wintery Christmas, so why not us too?"

Jean listened to Susan's explanation and felt quite a pang of emotion. It was still strange to think that she'd never get an impromptu visit from Patrick Tyneman ever again, never hear him grumble about Lucien's methods to her, never be able to show him how happy she was having taken his advice to pursue what she wanted in life. Jean had a feeling he would be quite proud of her now.

"I know it's rather last minute, since you just got back, but I do hope you and Lucien will be able to attend," Susan added with a bit of a pleading smile.

"Of course we'll attend. Wouldn't miss it for the world. Besides, Lucien lived in Europe for all those years, and he knows what it's like to have a winter Christmas. He'll have to help me get into the spirit of it all," Jean replied enthusiastically.

Susan reached out and gave Jean's hand a squeeze. "Thank you, Jean. It means a lot to me that you and Lucien will be there. And I do hope you'll have fun."

"We will. Thank you for the invitation, Susan."

Jean went about her shopping and eventually arrived home to put the food away. As soon as everything was where it belonged, she finally sat down at the kitchen table to go through the mail. She glanced at the clock and assumed Lucien had gone to the autopsy with Alice; he'd been gone a few hours and was likely to be gone a few hours more. Jean sighed, missing him already. Home not one day and she already missed him when he went off to work. But she smiled to herself, remembering how he had bid her farewell as she sat in that very chair and how he might greet her when he came home. Their first night in their bedroom as husband and wife.

Jean had to shake herself and return to the task at hand. The mail. She sifted through letters and advertisements and bills and everything else. She saw the envelope addressed in pristine calligraphy from Susan Tyneman and opened it right away.

"Oh dear," she whispered to herself. The gala was black tie formal; neither she nor Lucien had anything to wear. And they only had a few days before July 25 to figure something out. Lucien probably wouldn't be happy, but Jean had promised Susan. It was important they go. And Susan was right, they would probably have a good time.

Lucien and Matthew were both home in time for dinner. Jean was in the midst of mashing the potatoes when the front door opened, the tell-tale sounds of Lucien's return echoing through the house.

"Jean?" he called out.

She smiled, pausing her work and wiping her hands on her apron as she walked into the hallway to greet him. "Roast chicken and mashed potatoes," she informed him, answering the unasked question of what was for dinner.

"Oh Jean, I have missed your cooking," Matthew said gratefully. "I'll change out of my uniform and be out in a bit."

Lucien watched his friend limp away, and as soon as he was gone, Lucien turned to his wife and took her face in his hands, kissing her soundly. "I have been waiting to do that all day," he murmured.

Jean gave him a few more small pecks on his lips. "You left rather abruptly, and I've had the memory of your kisses with me as I waited for more," she replied.

"I think we'll have to have an early night. We're exhausted from travel, aren't we?" His eyes sparkled with his real meaning.

"Oh yes, certainly. We'll retire to have a quiet drink by the fire in _our_ bedroom."

Lucien hummed in appreciation. "And then we can get to work."

"Work?"

"My duty as your husband." He whispered in her ear, "I am going to have you on every surface of every room of this house." Lucien grazed his teeth on her earlobe before pressing a small kiss to her neck.

Jean's eyes went wide and she swallowed hard as she fought the blush in her cheeks caused by the distinctive tingling deep between her legs. She cleared her throat and pushed him away. "Dinner first," she insisted, turning and going back into the kitchen.

Lucien stood in the hallway and chuckled. Matthew returned after changing into more comfortable clothing. He saw the look on his friend's face and groaned, "You two are going to be impossible now, aren't you?"

"We are newlyweds," Lucien pointed out with a wink.

"Maybe I can move upstairs to Charlie's old room," Matthew grumbled, going into the kitchen to see if Jean needed any help.

While the three of them ate, Jean decided to broach the issue with Lucien. "I saw Susan Tyneman at the shops today," she began.

"How is Susan doing? It's been some time now, but after what she went through…"

Jean nodded. "She seemed quite well, actually. She's invited us to a party."

Matthew interjected, "Oh god, she's roped you in, has she?"

"Roped us into what?" Lucien asked, nervous from Matthew's reaction.

"Here, see for yourself." Jean passed the engraved invitation to her husband. "And I've already promised we'd go," she added.

"A black-tie formal gala to celebrate Christmas in July?" Lucien read in slight disgust. "Jean, we haven't got anything black-tie. Our wedding wasn't even that formal!"

"Lucien, Susan is trying to do something to honor Patrick, and I think he'd want us to support her," Jean scolded.

He wasn't convinced. "Matthew, are you going to this bloody circus?"

The police superintendent refused to look at him. "Yes," he mumbled.

"And you have a tuxedo?" Lucien asked in disbelief.

"I'm getting one," Matthew muttered under his breath.

"There, you see? Matthew is going and he's dressing up. We will, too," Jean announced definitively. But she frowned. "Now we have to figure out something to wear. I don't have enough time to make anything, not for something this formal."

"We'll pop down to Melbourne. I'll see a tailor to get the tuxedo, and you'll buy a gorgeous dress," Lucien told her, suddenly quite excited about the idea of seeing his wife get all dressed up.

"Lucien, we just got back from a four-month honeymoon. We can't afford the extravagance," Jean hissed disapprovingly.

"I can afford to buy you a dress, Jean. Besides, now I want to buy you a dress. When is this party, anyway? How much time have we got?"

"We should probably go to the shops tomorrow. The party is on Saturday," Jean informed him.

His face fell instantly. "Saturday? That's the twenty-fifth."

"Yes," she replied knowingly. She gave a sad smile of commiseration. "I'm afraid I committed us to going before I saw the date."

Matthew frowned. "What's wrong with the twenty-fifth? Should Christmas in July be on the twenty-fifth of July?"

"That's our four-month wedding anniversary," Lucien grumbled.

Matthew just rolled his eyes. "Somehow I think you'll live. And anyway weren't you all excited to get dressed up? Now you can celebrate your anniversary at a stupid fancy party."

"There, you see? We can pretend the party is for us," Jean reasoned.

Lucien brightened considerably. "Alright then. Tomorrow, first thing, we'll drive into Melbourne. And by the time we get back, I'm sure Alice will have those tissue samples tested."

"You should tell Alice that you're going to the party. She'll want to know," Matthew said, somewhat cryptically.

Lucien furrowed his brow in suspicion but nodded anyway.

After dinner, Jean cleaned everything up with Lucien's help. He was rather motivated for her to get everything done rather quickly. He even declined when Matthew offered to pour him a bourbon. "Actually, with all the travel, I think Jean and I will turn in early tonight," Lucien told him.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Right. Maybe I'll have a drink at the Club. But Christ, it's been four months, aren't you sick of each other yet?"

Jean and Lucien just looked at each other and smirked. Matthew didn't wait for a response. He grabbed his coat and went out.

As soon as they were alone, Lucien scooped Jean up into his arms. She shrieked, "Lucien, let me go!"

"Not on your life," he refused. "I should have done this when we got home this morning, but we were carrying the cases, so I missed my chance. So now I shall carry my wife across the threshold of our bedroom."

Jean resigned herself to his silliness. But she really did love it. He was such a romantic, and it warmed her heart to have a husband who loved her so dearly and wanted to do foolish things like this. Jean threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek with a giddy smile as they made their way to the bedroom.

Lucien deposited his wife onto the bed from a greater distance than she was expecting. She bounced on the mattress and yelped in surprised. He just laughed as he crawled over her body and settled above her in order to lean in for a passionate kiss. Jean forgot about anything other than the feel of his lips on hers, his tongue softly entering her mouth, his teeth nipping at her in the most sensual manner.

He moved down her jaw and neck, smiling into her skin as she moaned when his open-mouthed kisses traveled the creamy skin of her throat. He sat up, his knees on either side of her hips, and began unbuttoning her blouse. Jean put her arms above her head, watching him disrobe her. Her heart fluttered in her chest at the feeling of his gentle touch. When the blouse was open and exposed her to him, his hands went to her breasts, massaging them through her brassiere. She arched into his touch, wanting more and more of him. But Lucien climbed off her and sat on the edge of the bed to take off his own clothes. As he untied his shoes and removed his socks, Jean got up on her knees behind him. She threw her blouse skirt and underthings onto the floor, eliciting a chuckle from him as he saw the clothing soar past him and land in an unceremonious heap in the corner. She knelt on the bed behind him, her hands moving from his back and shoulders around to his chest. She pressed kisses on his neck, sucking and biting his flesh, intent on leaving marks all over him.

Perhaps a few months earlier, when she was still in conflict with the church, when Lucien hadn't gotten his divorce settled, when she was still employed as his housekeeper, she would have been appalled at the idea of all of Ballarat seeing lovebites on his neck that everyone would know came from her. But now, she was excited and delighted at the idea of the whole world knowing exactly how passionate their love was. Besides, he was her husband now, and she could be free to do what she wanted.

Lucien leaned back, reaching to hold her face for him to turn and kiss. Their messy kiss went unbroken as he lay down, and she straddled his lap and tangled her fingers in his hair. Lucien pulled her down so her breasts would press into his chest. He pawed her flesh, unable to keep his hands still, massaging her hips and rubbing her back and squeezing her bum. Jean moaned into his mouth when she felt his hardness underneath her.

He rolled them over so Jean was lying on her back. He stood up to remove the rest of his clothes. His erection sprung free from his shorts, and Jean's eyes darkened with desire. After four months, she knew very well what lovely things were going to happen next.

With a growl, Lucien knelt down on the floor and pulled her to the edge of the bed with her legs resting on his shoulders. He kissed and licked his way up her inner thighs before devouring her sex. His teeth caused her to shudder as they grazed her most sensitive area. His tongue plunged inside her, lapping up every drop of the wetness caused by their foreplay.

Jean let out a deep, guttural moan. "Oh god, Lucien!" Her hips bucked against him. She clenched the bedsheets in her fists as she writhed around through her orgasm.

As she calmed, Lucien allowed her a chance to relax and regain her strength. He stood up and gave himself a few strokes. He still had the taste of her on his tongue, and he savored it like a fine wine.

Jean pushed herself up on her elbows and sighed happily, waiting for him to come back to her. He was about to do just that when he noticed something. The nightstand was right across from the full-length mirror Jean had installed for dressing. Lucien got an idea. He quickly removed the lamp and alarm clock from his bedside table.

"Lucien, what are you doing?" she asked, confused.

"Come here, love," he instructed.

Jean stood up on wobbly legs and went to where he was standing and frowned. "I thought we were…"

"We are. Sit up here, would you? I want you to watch yourself in the mirror," Lucien explained.

She saw that she would be able to see her own reflection over his shoulder if he took her right here. "Oh!" she said in surprise. "Lucien, I don't think…"

He had her sit up on the nightstand, and his hand moved between her legs. "You're so beautiful. I want you to see what I see when I make you scream my name," he whispered in her ear. She shivered in aroused excitement, and he could feel her getting wet, just at the thought of his words. Jean pulled his face to hers and kissed him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him close to her, grasping his hardness and lining him up to her entrance. He pushed into her with a grunt. She pulled away from his kiss and gasped. "Watch," he told her as he began to move inside her.

Jean was oddly nervous to see herself in the midst of making love to her husband. But she couldn't resist looking at the mirror behind him. Her hair was mussed all over the place. Her face was flushed. She noticed that she unconsciously alternated between biting her lip when she moaned and dropping her jaw open to gulp gasps of air, panting to appease her racing heart. Every touch and movement from him increased the tension pooling deep in her belly, pulling her like a taut string until she would eventually snap.

She also couldn't resist staring at his bare backside as he thrust into her over and over again. His muscles clenched and flexed, his scarred back rippling, the sheen of sweat shining on his golden body. The sight of him and herself, the feel of him within her…Jean bit down hard on his shoulder as he reached between them to apply pressure exactly where she needed him, causing her to feel as though she were going to explode. She tried to watch herself in the mirror, but all she saw was stars. She screamed his name, the sound muffled into his shoulder.

The glorious pain of her enthusiastic bite made him let out a roar, and he simultaneously plunged into her, spilling his climax. He leaned against her, gathering her in his arms, resting his head against hers, trying to catch his breath.

"That was…" she murmured, unable to find words.

He chuckled breathlessly. "Yes, it was." Lucien softly kissed her hair, stuck to her face with sweat. "We should get cleaned up. Wouldn't want to dirty the bed on our first night in it." He extricated himself from her and offered his hand to help her to her feet.

Jean leaned against him and wrapped her arms around his waist, not caring that he was all sweaty. She lightly kissed his pectoral muscles. "I have a feeling I'm going to have to change our bedsheets more often than I used to before we were married. Perhaps I should buy a few more sets so I won't have to wash them more than once a week," she considered aloud.

Lucien grinned proudly. "A problem to solve another time, my darling. I'll let you take your bath first," he offered.

She nodded in thanks and padded into the en suite bathroom. That had been a convenient perk to moving into the old studio. Only two rooms in the whole house had bathrooms attached: Lucien's old room next to the surgery—the bathroom in which also had an entrance right into the surgery for patients to use—and Genevieve's old studio which had been converted into their marital suite.

They took their turns rinsing off and brushing their teeth and getting ready for bed. When they crawled under the sheets together in their nightclothes, they shared a single, slow kiss, and turned out the light. Lucien had left his lamp on the floor. He wanted to picture his wife naked on the nightstand as long as possible. He wrapped his legs around hers and nuzzled into her hair. She grazed her fingernails over his arm, smiling as she soothed him to sleep. It didn't take her long to find slumber either.

Early the next morning, the Blakes had breakfast with Matthew, who thankfully said absolutely nothing about anything he may or may not have overheard when he returned home from the Club the night before. He went off to work, and Jean and Lucien got into the car to make the two-hour drive to Melbourne to find some formal attire.

They went to the same shops where they'd gotten their wedding clothes. The shopkeepers even recognized them. Jean watched as Lucien was measured for his tuxedo. She even gave the tailor some helpful tips, as she was usually the one to mend and alter clothing for Lucien. "Be sure to add an extra inch in the shoulders. He's infuriatingly active and having his jacket too tight constrains him. And take the trousers up half an inch. I don't want the cuffs to touch the ground when he goes running about in the mud and dust and such."

Lucien had to laugh. "Jean, what do you think I'm going to do while wearing a tuxedo?"

"I have no idea what you'll do, but there always seems to be something unexpected for you to get involved in, and if you're going to spend all this money on a formal suit, I want to be sure it's ready for you," she replied.

He detected an unexpected air of authority in her voice that he was quite proud of.

When they'd finished with Lucien's things, they went to the womenswear shop to find something for Jean. The shopkeeper greeted her warmly. "Mrs. Beazley, it's so nice to have you back!"

"Actually, it's Mrs. Blake now," Jean corrected proudly.

Lucien was positively beaming as the woman congratulated them both.

Jean then went and explained the occasion for which she needed a formal gown. Lucien wandered around the shop, looking at all the lovely dresses on display. One on the back wall caught his eye. It shone brightly, but wasn't so ostentatious as to be in bad taste. The color reminded him of Jean, somehow; it wasn't normally something she'd wear, but he thought it might look beautiful on her. He walked toward the gown and ran his hand along the fabric to feel its texture. He smiled.

"How about this?" he asked the ladies, still deep in conversation.

With a furrowed brow, Jean came over to get a closer look. "Lucien, I can't wear something like that!" she hissed.

"Why not?"

"Well, first off, it's sleeveless. A woman my age shouldn't show her arms."

"You've got lovely arms," he insisted.

"And that fit would be a bit too snug to be appropriate," she continued.

"Regardless of propriety, do you like it?"

"It is a beautiful gown."

He nodded in satisfaction. "I think it would be perfect. You're not a widowed housekeeper living in a single man's house anymore, Jean. You don't need to be so concerned."

She opened her mouth to protest but quickly closed it again, frowning.

"Why don't you try it on and see how it feels. If you don't like it, you can find something else," he suggested.

A few minutes later, Lucien paid what Jean believed to be far too much money for the dress he had picked out for her. They had the shop hold the box for them as they found a café for a spot of lunch. The tailor had told them when the alterations for Lucien's tuxedo would be finished, so they had a bit of time to kill.

They wandered the Melbourne streets hand in hand, just as they had done in Paris and London and everywhere else on their honeymoon. It felt wonderful to be able to bring a bit of that unadulterated joy and romance back to Australia with them. Jean had been concerned that being home would just mean back to what they'd always been but with perhaps a bit more intimacy between them. So far, she'd been pleasantly surprised by their new married life. For Lucien's part, he had no intention of things ever being as they were. They'd have a functional household, certainly, but for him, being married to Jean meant that he could be comfortable and confident to adore her in every possible way, whenever he wanted. He wanted to cherish her each and every moment of the days and nights they had together.

During lunch, they chatted about Susan's Christmas in July gala and what that could possibly entail. Jean had never attended a party at the Tynemans' because it had never been her place to be invited before. Lucien had never attended one out of utter distaste for most things the Tyenman family did. He wouldn't have even wanted to go to Edward's wedding if it weren't for Jean's friendship with Patrick. And now, of course, they really didn't have the heart to refuse anything to Susan.

Lucien told Jean all about the winter Christmases he'd had when he was living in Britain. The snow, the lights, the warm drink in the chilly air, the magic of it all. Jean was entranced. She'd just been to Europe, but in the spring and summer, when the weather was warm and pleasant, though they'd had a few days rain in England. He promised her that they'd do a winter abroad sometime so she could see the snowy beauty.

The tailor wasn't quite ready when they came, so they picked up Jean's dress before Lucien's final fitting. But finally, everything was sorted and they'd gotten everything they needed for the party on Saturday. They were home in time for Jean to do a load of laundry before getting dinner together.

The days leading up to the party were filled with anxiety for Jean. Lucien had made her feel so very confident and excited about everything. He had a way of doing that in any situation. But he was away from home quite a bit with the case that Matthew had dragged him out on when they had returned from their trip. He wasn't even home enough to see patients. Jean had to schedule everyone for the following week in the hope that things were settled sufficiently for Lucien to see to his other work.

Otherwise, she settled into life as Mrs. Blake, lady of the house. It felt a bit strange to think of herself with that title. Because nothing had really changed when she was home by herself. She did the dusting and laundry and vacuuming and shopping and cooking and gardening. Everything she'd done as the housekeeper. After all, regardless of her last name, Jean was still Jean, and whether or not she was being paid for it, keeping the Blake house in proper order was work she enjoyed and felt obligated to take care of personally. No one else could do things the way she could.

It was strange though, that things were so much the same and yet so different. When Lucien came home, they were nearly inseparable. She continued to help with his work, assist with patients and experiments, and she still provided a sounding board to work out various angles of a case. Now, however, they would lie in bed and talk about a case. They would go over patient files and household expense receipts by the fire in their bedroom. It was all terribly comfortable and intimate and wonderful. As the days passed, Jean was starting to find her new place as Mrs. Blake. And she loved it.

At last, Saturday arrived. Lucien kissed her good morning and wished her a happy four months of marriage. Jean cooked him an extravagant breakfast. He unfortunately had to run off to the police station after a stroke of inspiration hit him thanks to something Jean said as she put a plate of eggs and pancakes and sausage in front of him. He promised he wouldn't be long, so she kept the plate warm for him, but Jean knew that she'd likely end up throwing it out.

Miraculously, the arrest had been made, and the suspect confessed merely minutes after being caught. Lucien had solved another murder for the police, and he raced home only an hour after he'd left.

Jean was delighted to have him back so soon. She was able to give him the breakfast she'd made him, even if it was nearly lunchtime.

He dashed out of the house again later in the day, despite Jean's warning that the party was only a few hours away, and they'd need to start getting ready soon, and could he please try not to be too long?

But Lucien had only left to get a proper haircut and shave from the barber and pick up flowers on his way home. He presented the beautiful bouquet of pink roses to his wife, who thanked him with a deep kiss as a promise of things to come later.

Eventually, after spending far too long doing her hair and makeup and putting on her new gown, Jean was ready to go to the Christmas gala. She straightened her husband's bowtie one last after he helped her with her coat, and they got in the car.

Lucien thought he noticed her fidgeting as they drove to the reception hall Susan had booked for the party. But every time he glanced at her hands, they were demurely in her lap. Her head was held high as she looked out the window to the streetlights passing by. She seemed steady and calm.

There was a valet service to park the cars. A very elegant touch. Lucien offered his arm to his wife as they entered. He flashed her a congenial smile, which she returned.

Butlers took their coats in the lobby. When Jean removed hers, her gown was revealed. Lucien had just seen her in it as they got ready at home together, but it took his breath away to see her in this setting.

The gown was a simple silhouette. Sleeveless with a boatneck and a straight sheath from her waist all the way down. It was gathered by a satin ribbon to show off her figure. The color was a beautifully soft dusty rose pink. And it was covered top to bottom in sequins. They caught the light in the most glamorous manner. Jean shone like an expensive jewel, nearly blinding anyone who looked upon her.

Lucien thought she looked like a beautiful Christmas angel atop a tree, missing only feathery wings and a golden halo. He took her arm again, beaming with pride. She smiled excitedly, looking almost as happy as she did when she walked down the aisle to him at their wedding. She was glowing, not just from the sequins catching the light, but her whole countenance seemed to give off a heavenly light.

Inside the hall, everything was decorated for Christmas. There were trees everywhere, decorated with ornaments and lights and tinsel and garland. All the decorations were in red and green and gold and silver. What stood out most, however, were the millions of white lace snowflakes hanging on every surface. The whole space was a magical winter wonderland.

"Goodness! Look at all of this!" Jean gushed.

"Susan's really outdone herself," Lucien agreed.

The Blakes wandered around the room, greeting people they knew, making polite small talk with everyone, taking appetizers from the waiters, and drinking mulled wine and eggnog as it was brought to them.

Lucien almost couldn't believe the change he saw in Jean. That sparkle in her dress was mirrored in her eyes and in her voice as she spoke. He'd never seen this kind of confidence in her when they were in public before. At home, she was always in charge of everything, always poised and in control. But with others, she was polite and demure and reserved, almost to the point of being overly-conciliatory. Now, however, she was self-assured and bright. She seemed to draw the attention of everyone in the room. Lucien couldn't keep his eyes off her.

After a while, there was a lull in the conversation. Lucien was able to pull his wife aside for a private moment. "Having a good time, darling?" he asked.

"Yes, actually, it's quite nice to see everyone after we've been gone for so long. I haven't really had a chance to catch up with people in town. This is a nice setting for it," she replied.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. "You look absolutely stunning."

"The dress you chose is certainly beautiful," she agreed.

"The dress only shows off how beautiful you are, Jeanie."

She averted her gaze as she blushed. "You're very sweet," she told him quietly.

On the far side of the room, a jazz band was starting up a new set. "Would you care to dance, Mrs. Blake?" Lucien asked, offering his hand.

Jean grinned. "It would be my pleasure."

They made their way to the middle of the floor. Lucien led his wife in an easy dance. He held her right hand in his left and did his best to maintain decorum by putting his right hand securely between her shoulder blades. But he couldn't help but let his fingers drift down to her waist and to the small of her back. The texture of the sequins was rough yet smooth, sharp yet intoxicating. The shiny plastic was cool to the touch, but the closer he held her, the more he could feel the warmth of her body permeate through. All he wanted to do was touch her. Feel those sequins on his skin, feel her skin beneath the sequins.

He pressed against her so they danced cheek to cheek. They were dancing so close that Jean could feel the beginnings of his arousal against her, even through her dress. "Lucien…" she whispered warningly.

"I have the most beautiful wife in all the world, and it is our anniversary," he murmured in her ear as explanation.

Jean knew she shouldn't give in to him. Not here at a party with all these people. If she weren't the one to keep him from making a fool out of them both, he'd lose his job and they'd lose everything. But hadn't they already tried that? Hadn't everything worked out just fine? Besides, he was right; she was his wife and it was their anniversary. And oh, how she loved her husband.

When the band's tune was over, they applauded respectfully before Jean tugged on Lucien's arm. "I think we should find somewhere quiet for a moment."

That tone in her voice indicated that whatever she wanted a quiet place for was something they'd need privacy for. They made their way through the crowds. Lucien noticed Matthew standing near the bar. Alice was there too. He waved at them, and they both smiled. But when they noticed that Jean was singularly focused on escaping all others, Matthew and Alice smirked knowingly.

Down a hallway, Jean found a door. She opened it and pushed Lucien inside, closing it tight behind them. They found themselves in the dark of some kind of supply closet.

And in an instant, Lucien's lips had found hers. He clawed at her dress, pulling her body as close to his as he could. Her hands wandered under his tuxedo jacket, all over his starched shirt. His beard scratched her face, and Jean was certain they weren't being careful enough to avoid the red irritation on her fact that resulted from such abandon in their kisses. But she wanted more. She felt like her body was on fire. Being so near to him and unable to touch him how she wanted, both on the dancefloor and here in the closet, was torture. She was aching for his hands on her skin, his mouth everywhere he could reach, his hardness inside her. "I need you," she murmured into his kiss.

Lucien wanted nothing more than to give her exactly what she needed right then and there. He bucked his hips against her. The material of his tuxedo trousers wasn't very thick. He could feel the scratch of the sequins of her dress. Lucien broke their kiss to undo his belt buckle.

The pause in their ardor gave Jean just enough time to think clearly. She put her hand on his, stopping him from unbuttoning his trousers. "Wait. Lucien, what are we doing? We can't do this here!"

"We…what?" he asked stupidly. His mind wasn't functioning properly; he was far too aroused to think clearly.

Jean leaned in and kiss him, her hand still at the front of his trousers, and she gave him a few strokes through his pants. "Let's go home. Matthew is here, so we'll have the house to ourselves."

Lucien saw the logic in her words. He grinned in the darkness. "We can choose another room to christen, as it were."

She emitted a quiet giggle, delighted by his newlywed mission to make love to her in every room of their house. So far, they'd done the bedroom and his study. It was a big house. Plenty of other places to explore.

Lucien left the closet first, making sure the coast was clear. He knocked quietly on the closet door to let Jean know she could come out.

"How's my hair?" she asked with concern.

"Perfect. I haven't touched it yet."

"But I've touched yours," she noted, reaching up to smooth down the flyaways. "And I've got lipstick all over you!"

He pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. "If you'd be so kind?"

She wiped the pink lipstick from his lips and beard and cheeks. "You're fine now. Is my face alright?"

"Beautiful," he told her, sneaking another kiss to her lips. But he did take the handkerchief and clean up the smudges around her mouth. "There, all better."

With a determined nod, Jean led the way back out to the party. Lucien followed behind and had to suppress a laugh. There were a few patches of sequins loose or missing on the back of her dress. He must have inadvertently ripped the stitching. Jean wouldn't be pleased when she found out. But he wasn't going to tell her.

They found Susan Tyneman on their way out. Jean embraced her warmly and thanked her for the lovely party. "Everything is so beautiful, Susan. You've done a wonderful job. And I'm sure Patrick and Edward would have loved it."

"Thank you, Jean. I do think they'd have enjoyed. Are you two leaving?" Susan asked with dismay.

"I'm afraid we must," Lucien replied. "Jean's got a bit of an upset stomach."

Jean put on a miserable expression. "I think that mulled wine was a bit too much for me."

"Go home and get some rest and feel better," Susan instructed. "Doctor, I trust you'll take good care of her?"

"Of course. She's my wife," Lucien replied proudly.

Jean was beaming. "Thank you, Susan. I'll see you soon."

And with one more embrace, the Blakes were free to go. Lucien caught Matthew's eye and gave him a wink. Matthew correctly took that to mean that he shouldn't be in any hurry to go back to the house.

In the car, Lucien reached over and took his wife's hand, pressing a kiss to it. "I've never seen you like that before," he commented. "It's quite a pleasant change."

She cocked her head curiously. "Seen me like what?"

"I don't know, there was something different about how you were talking to everyone. You were…freer, I suppose. Head held high, voice strong and even. I don't know if I've seen you talk like that to anyone but me and any of our various lodgers."

"Well I couldn't very well talk like that to anyone before, could I?" she reasoned.

"Couldn't you?"

Jean explained, "I have always known my place Lucien. When I was Dr. Blake's housekeeper, both yours and your father's, I was the help. And employed widow earning a living. I was expected to be respectful and appeasing to everyone of a higher station. Which was nearly everyone."

He frowned. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"It didn't matter how I felt. That's what I was supposed to do. I wouldn't dare let my behavior reflect badly on the Blake family."

"Well, you're not the housekeeper anymore," he pointed out.

"No, I'm not. And that's why I know I need to keep my head up and walk tall and speak in a tone that commands the respect for my new station in life as a doctor's wife," she told him.

"You're just playing a part?"

"In a way, yes. But I will say that I feel much better playing this part than the last one. I knew how to be your housekeeper and be a credit to your house. But being your wife just feels so much more natural. I don't have to work as hard at it," Jean realized aloud.

And with that, Jean Blake realized that she had found her place.

Lucien was so proud of her, he thought he would burst. Just knowing that she was happier in this new role filled him with satisfaction. All he wanted was to love her and ensure she was happy and cared for. Four months into their marriage, he seemed to be doing a fair job.

They held hands the whole drive home. The way Jean rubbed her thumb along the back of his hand made it very hard to concentrate on the road. Lucien drove a bit faster than he normally would have.

As soon as they entered their house, Lucien pulled Jean inside and kissed her against the front door. He spun them around only so that he could unzip her gown, letting the sequined masterpiece pool at her feet.

They made love standing up in the entryway of the house, too focused on each other to have the foresight to even enter another room. When they'd finished, Lucien held her against his chest, leaning against the front door once more. Their clothes were littered around them. Jean would have quite a bit of work to do mending everything. Her gown was missing more sequins, and his shirt had lost a few buttons when she practically ripped it off him. But that was a problem to deal with later.

Lucien placed gentle kisses in her hair. "I love you, Jean Blake. Happy anniversary, my darling."

She snuggled against him with a smile, biding her time before they'd need to clean up themselves and their clothes and vacate the front hallway.


End file.
